This whole thing started with my curiosity (and the realisation that I could actually read some French). Curiosity may have killed the cat, but in my case it only left me with the sense that my stereotypes of the French are surprisingly accurate (for better or for worse).

After I reluctantly (*cough at least against my better judgement cough*) started shipping FrUK a while ago, I decided to find out what the real French actually think of the English. It was fascinating, really. Although I wish my French was better. I also decided to see how the Brits suggested dating the French. I had fun doing some research on both ends and decided to write a little fic about it. My first fic in years actually (be nice, people).

I am kidding you not - all of the things England and France read out to each other is stuff I found on the internet. My French is your average "I have crossed the channel a couple of times, and went to school"-French, so I (and therefore England) may have misunderstood some of it. Also, if my French is completely off and you happen to know the language, please help :)

I know the dubbed Hetalia calls England Britain, but as Scotland has been introduced to the series and Wales is a country in its own right as well, I would like to respect the other parts of the GB and let them actually be independent. Damn, Goodness knows we have complicated sibling relations! No wonder foreigners get confused.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and the nations of the world are not mine. Rather sad, actually as I think there would be more tea and cake, and less war if I was in charge of it all.

Allons-y!

France had just walked through England's lovely gardens and into his house without difficulties as usual, and found his 'cher voisin' slash best-enemy having tea in his living-room. England was reading through a stack of papers, that France guessed were some meeting documents. The Anglais always worked too hard for his own good. So stiff.

"Bonjour Angleterre, que faites-vous?"

"Oh, hello France. How did you..? oh, never mind" England sighed, deciding not to press the matter on how his neighbour would make an excellent burglar. They had been through it before, and no, France would not please stop breaking into his house. There were other matters at hand.

"I have a bone to pick with you, now that you are here anyway," England said and put his cup down, as if to emphasise the seriousness of the matter. France sat down in the couch opposite him, wondering what he had been doing now.

"Canada just sent me some articles written by your people, all titled a variation of 'comment faire pour séduire un Anglais?'" England said, his French surprisingly good considering he avoided speaking it as much as possible. Articles on How to seduce the English? This would be fun, France just knew it. He did not make too much of an expression, simply waited for England to go on.

"Let me read out to you: 'How to seduce the English. Complement them, emphasise your Frenchness with the rich culture and so on, particularly your cooking. 'Make them Real food! They are probably tired of fish and chips'." The reading was slightly staggered as England was translating as he went along. He stopped and looked at France again.

"I don't think those tactics would be very wise, frog. Mostly it is just insulting my own cooking, or emphasising how superior France is to Britain, which is not really good when you are trying to flatter someone. 'The English always go out in big groups, and although they act confident whilst with friends, they are really shy on their own'. What the hell France?" England asked.

France still didn't say anything. As far as he was concerned it was all true, if England couldn't see it that was his problem. He simply tried to keep a poker face, whilst on the inside he was grinning like a maniac.

He wasn't embarrassed about his people sharing dating tips with each other. They did the same with other nations, and within France itself. It was only natural. L'amour is an art, something you have to work on. Not that the English would ever realise that, with drinking being their only option of reproduction.

England continued: "Some are worried about the language barrier, so here are some phrases suggested to learn in English before you leave: 'Do you want to test the French kiss?' When, if I may be so bold as to ask, has that ever worked for you?" England asked as he raised an impressive eyebrow.

France only shrugged. More often than not was the truth of it.

"Now this one is just plain funny: 'Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?' You just think you are a bloody God of Sex don't you France? Unbelievable."

By now France couldn't stop grinning. Sometimes he simply loved his people.

England read on in silence for a little while. Sometimes pointing out points he found particularly annoying or ridiculous. "'Jolie Rosbif?' Honestly France, don't even think of calling me that. And the 'fwench accent' is not sexy. Only incredibly annoying".

"It is a bit sexy, isn't it? It seems to be working quite effectively at times," France grinned at the frowning Brit, who simply ignored him and read on.

"I can't say I understand everything after having tried very hard not to learn your stupid language for centuries, but I can still understand the overall meaning of these articles, frog!" Arthur continued, ignoring the smug Frenchman.

"'The english are more aggressive than their friend the Yankee'? And 'the good thing about Americans is that they do not necessarily need as much alcohol as the English'. We do not have to drink to go out with anyone. Well... maybe we do when we are going out with someone French" England spat, managing to make 'French' sound like a proper insult.

He read on: "de nos belles anglais... that means 'our pretty English' right? What makes you think for one second that the English belong to anyone, particularly the French!?" England was looking both angry, and slightly disturbed by now.

"But you are only pointing out the things you don't like. Did you even notice they are calling the English pretty?" France supplemented.

"Frog, you read your language much better than I do. And complementing looks alone is superficial - what you are accusing the Americans of I might add - mostly you are commenting on the English tendency of binge-drinking, and have huge arguments upon whether or not English girls are 'easy' or not!" England bit back, turning to a new article.

"Oh, this is just rubbish! Let me quote this back to you" England said, and held up the paper: "'et comment dirait Porthos dans les 3 mousquetaires: J'ai entendu dire que les Anglaises sont tout à fait comme une bouteille de champagne givrée : glaciales à l'extérieur mais une fois qu'on les réchauffe bien.." What the hell France!? I am not some bottle of champagne, cold on the outside and warm on the inside, once you warm them well! Bloody language of love, puh. More insulting than anything!"

France still had his amused grin plastered onto his face. He also couldn't stop himself from laughing a little at how England had - very predictably - started to blush.

"S'il-vous plait, if I may just return the favour," France said as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket.

"What are you..?" England started, but France shushed him.

"I have been collecting such articles for years, Angleterre. It is in my national interest to know what le Royaume-Unis and other foreigners think of my country. Don't think I am the only one who writes about dating foreigners".

France made a couple of clicks on his phone, and found the articles he was looking for. He noticed that England had picked up his tea again, this time for both defense and comfort. The many uses of tea in the hands of a Brit. France should really write that book one day. The average mug of tea pr. person every day was three or more, no wonder they used it to communicate.

France started reading the English articles out loud to the mug-clenching Brit.

"When dating a Frenchman expect next-day contact and a date within the two dates. By the time a British man would have taken you out for dinner, you could have been on a minibreak with your French boyfriend, and met his mother. After a couple of weeks he will probably say I love you, which has a slightly different ring to it than what we are used to in Britain".

France eyed England, and was secretly happy about how his dating skills were confirmed by British citizens. Well, they might be implying the French move a bit fast in a relationship, but at least they didn't take three years gathering the courage to ask someone out to dinner either. "If there isn't daily contact he isn't interested," he continued.

"'Do prepare to be wooed. Whereas my previous idea of romance was receiving a cup of tea without asking, the French are much more forward and are famed for their skills at beautifully crafted declarations of love, vast bouquets, moonlight walks and spontaneous romantic evenings'".

France laughed. The remark with the tea was something that had made him laugh before as well. Well, he did have his own stereotype about the wine, and he knew it. Still, the tea had simply become a secret joke with France by now.

"Oh, Angleterre, mon trésor. You never make me le thé. Does this mean you don't love me?" he pouted.

"I would not make you tea, France. Tea is for people I like, such as Japan. You can go brew yourselves something on frog-legs or something equally groce. And there is nothing wrong about subtle, everyday, non-flashy love!" England retorted.

France found another article on his mobile: "'If you work in France do take your regular lunch and coffee breaks, even if you're busy and working on something important. Working your butt off is not seen as an ideal in France, and you might be considered a bit weird if you do'," he looked up at England with a grin.

"They got that one right. I have always found you oddly adorable for working in lunch breaks, mon petit. But you are not as crazy about work as Amerique. It always seems to me like he thinks he will die if he did not wake up at 6am to save the world like a hero. So much childish energy," France commented.

"Speaking of the Americans, the French have written here that you should take them to the cinema and use your 'French charm' and stereotype to lure them in. They claim the Americans are stupid, so buying cheap wine and pretending to be a good cook will be enough. 'Good for your wallet'!" England exclaimed angrily, slightly protective of his former colony.

He put his tea down again. Here meaning that England was too angry to hold onto it, and may even rise to his feet very soon.

"Sex and seduction always seems to be a sport for you France. A bloody game! I know you think the English are cold and doesn't care, but that is not true. We just play football and cricket instead of 'seduce the most foreign girls' and 'how many beds can you get into?'. I just don't understand how that is romantic at all!" England had indeed rose to his feet, and was nearly yelling.

"It is about the passion, Angleterre. And love is not only about being married and having children, it is about the chase and the feelings, and the attentiveness. Which you totally lack. You lack romantic tact mon amie, and you find it easier to hate me than admit that to yourself!" France, who could play the shouting-game too, yelled back.

He sort of regretted it though. For all of England's talk and seemingly cold exterior, he was still the little boy France had met all those years ago. Easy to forget the age gap that actually existed between them, particularly when England had grown as tall as him. And the many wars fought between them had made them both grow up too quickly in many ways.

"Whatever, France. Would you please just leave?" England asked in a quieter voice, knowing this argument would never end, and he was too tired to argue today. The topic of 'love' did leave him on shaky grounds, and effectively pulled him out of his comfort-zone. Wishing for a drink, if anything, but that would only prove France's point.

France eyed him up and down, watching him trying to regain his gentlemanly composure, anger seeping away, replaced by exhaustion. He had dealt with England before, and knew that the other nation pushed everyone away.

Dieu, Angleterre would push everyone away and then feel lonely later, always pretending he prefered his 'splendid isolation'. So instead of backing away, like many other nations, and like he himself had done many times before in this sort of situation, he simply walked closer.

"Arrêter, France! Arrêter envahir mon espace personnel!" England called out in alarm as France was slowly invading his personal space. His instinctive reaction was to push France away, but the older nation managed to grab his wrists.

"Éloignez-vous de moi!" England continued. France didn't know whether the other nation had intended to speak in French or not, but it made him smile, although the message was clear: stay away from me.

"Only you can make the language of love sound so cold and.. anglais, mon mignon," he said softly with a smile as they were standing close, face to face.

"I figured back in the day that the only French I would really need was to ask you to back the hell off," England spat at him. France only chuckled and brought the other nation in for an embrace.

"I love how you know more French than you would like to admit," he whispered into England's ear. "And I do believe Big Brother's people were right regarding you, mon chou, you are like a bottle of champagne".

"Don't call me a cabbage, Frog!" England answered, but with a slight smile to his voice.

"England, do you want to test the French kiss?"

"git"

la fin

And some possibly accurate French vocab:

'Rosbif' is a nickname for the English (British?), sort of their equivalent of frog. Commenting on our culinary traditions. Well, rather that than eat frogs, to be perfectly honest.

Cher voisin = dear neighbour

Le Royaume-Unis = The United Kingdom

mon chou = literally means "my cabbage", but they use it like we use sweetie/love/pet/darling, or the American "honey" (as google translate wanted to inform me)

Mon trésor = my treasure

Dieu = God

Arrêter envahir mon espace personnel! = Stop invading my personal space (the translation is quite literal, so might be rather funny in French. But what do I know? )

éloignez-vous de moi = stay away from me

For some reason it ended up being from France's perspective, which was unexpected.

I haven't written anything in years (then under a different account and an email I can't find) and never for Hetalia so tell me what you think.